ROLL on, thou ball, roll on!
Through pathless realms of space
Roll on!
What though I’m in a sorry case?
What though I cannot meet my bills?
What though I suffer toothache’s ills?
What though I swallow countless pills?
Never _you_ mind!
Roll on!
Roll on, thou ball, roll on!
Through seas of inky air
Roll on!
It’s true I’ve got no shirts to wear;
It’s true my butcher’s bill is due;
It’s true my prospects all look blue;
But don’t let that unsettle you.
Never _you_ mind!
Roll on!
(_It rolls on._)
_W. S. Gilbert._